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My stripper friend is not good with secrets. She means well, certainly, but she’s just not good at it. She can’t even keep her own secrets. She drinks too many martinis and starts telling each person the same secret while making each person promise not to talk about it. That’s how an entire club found out that she is dating the new bouncer. When I found out, I was genuinely happy for her but at the same time not impressed. I don’t have great expectations for a relationship between two individuals who work together in any work place, let alone a strip club.

I hope it works. They have things in common. It could work. They’re both goofy, friendly, have very low body fat and are exceptionally photogenic. Aren’t these the key ingredients to a successful long-term relationship? Their wedding pictures could be used to sell picture frames. They’re that pretty.

I wouldn’t recommend sh*tting where you eat, but some people like the taste, apparently. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be forced to stay in the same room with someone after our relationship failed miserably. If you like where you work, it’s just best to not set yourself up for that situation.

There are perks to being involved with co-workers, though. The stripper that bangs the bartender isn’t paying for any drinks. The stripper that bangs the DJ never has to be tortured by being forced to dance to Nickelback. My friend gets extra special security since her boyfriend is the bouncer. She probably has the hookup for discounted steroids, too.

While I was talking to the very friendly manager, I mentioned that the new barback was adorable. The manager reminded me that it would be much more beneficial to sleep with a manager, and not a barback. There were better perks. You can come and go as you please and never pay a house fee. The barback would assure that you had plenty of napkins though. That, along with the stamina of youth and the boyish good looks definitely make him an appealing candidate. I also mentioned the issue of job security and managerial involvement. If anything went wrong, I’d pay with my job, wouldn’t I? He assured me I wouldn’t. I brought up my other carnal options. I told him that if I slept with the janitor, I’d get paper towels whenever I wanted them. There is also the appeal of the janitor’s closet, the true VIP room. It’s the cave of custodial wonders, really. If he was truly love struck, I’d probably get a lifetime supply of toilet paper.

Either way, I’m not single and not interested in breaking my own rules. I think it’s best to be able to abandon my job and co-workers wholly and completely when my shift is over.